


Sliver Of Moonlight

by thatchoirperson



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Fluffy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 01:15:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15718902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatchoirperson/pseuds/thatchoirperson
Summary: Spot got mugged and Davey runs into him- let the hurt/comfort commence





	Sliver Of Moonlight

Grimacing, Spot picked himself up off the ground, cradling his left arm. Pain shot through his upper arm and shoulder whenever he moved them. He could feel the side of his face going numb. Fuck. It felt like he’d been kicked in the gut or slammed into a wall, but he couldn’t remember. Maybe both? Probably both. Carefully pulling up the hem of his shirt, he saw a sizeable bruise spreading from the left side of his torso. His waist was turning almost completely purple.  
Fuck it. He was closer to the Manhattan lodging house, anyway. It was getting dark. How long had he been laying there? He winced as he began the long, slow walk.  
It was a few minutes before he heard his name.  
“Spot?”  
He turned his head as much as he could manage. The hell was David Jacobs doing out by himself this time of night? He nodded politely. “Jacobs.”  
“The hell happened to you?” Davey’s voice grew concerned as his eyes swept over Spot’s body, taking in the extent of his injuries.  
“Nothin’ what concerns you.” That was harsh. Spot adjusted his tone, as if pretending he didn’t notice how more than half of his body was covered in scrapes and bruises. “Where’s your brother?”  
“He wanted to stay at the lodging house tonight. With the other boys.” Davey moved his hand as if to touch Spot’s shoulder before pulling it away. “Really, Spot, what happened?”  
“I’m fine.”  
“You are not fine.”  
Spot chose his next words carefully. “Fuck off, Jacobs.”  
Much to Spot’s dismay, Davey did not fuck off.  
“Spot, please,” Davey pleaded, his voice breaking slightly.  
“Why d’you even care?”  
Davey paused, speechless, before responding, his voice calm and steady. “Because, Spot. You look like hell. You can barely walk. You obviously need help, but you’re hell-bent on refusing any that’s offered to you. Now tell me what the fuck happened.”  
“‘S nothin’,” Spot lied, yet again, before his common sense got the better of him. He took a breath. “I got mugged a few hours ago. Got beat up bad.”  
This time, Davey did put his hand on Spot’s shoulder- his good shoulder, thankfully. He resisted the urge to shrug it off.  
“Jesus, Spot.”  
“My ankle got fucked up. So did my other arm.” The words wouldn’t stop coming. God, why couldn’t he stop talking? “I musta been hit in the stomach a ton, too.” He lifted his shirt to expose  
the bruise covering his torso, a tear running down his face. God, he hoped Davey hadn’t noticed he was crying. Before he could stop himself, the tear had turned to uncontrollable sobs, and David Jacobs, of all people, was brushing the tears off his cheeks and pulling him into a gentle hug.  
“Hey. You’re gonna be okay.”  
Spot couldn’t understand why Davey’s voice and his hug made him cry even more. He noticed himself pulling Davey closer to him as he sobbed silently into the taller boy’s shoulder.  
They stood like this for longer than was necessary. Spot began to realize how comforting it was, having Davey with him. He buried his face in Davey’s chest, closing his eyes.  
“Come back to my place.”  
He pulled away, just slightly, not wanting the embrace to end. “Wha- Jacobs, I…”  
“Please.” Davey’s voice was almost a whisper, almost desperate. “I- I want to make sure you’re okay, Spot.”  
Spot felt his face flush as he contemplated Davey’s request. He nodded, his hands still resting on Davey’s shoulders. “No one finds out, understand?”  
“Okay.”  
Spot moved his arm so it rested on Davey’s waist and Davey wrapped his arm around Spot’s shoulders.  
Although it was only a two mile walk back to the Jacobs’ house, it took them almost an hour. By the time they arrived at the front door, Spot’s ankle was on the verge of giving out completely. He leaned on the wall next to the door, trying to fill his lungs with each agonizing breath. His vision was starting to blur.  
Sarah was the one who finally opened the door. She glanced over at Spot, making eye contact briefly before turning to her brother. “What happened?”  
“We gotta get him inside, Sar. He’s going to pass out.”  
Spot wanted to protest them talking about him like he couldn’t speak for himself, but he found himself nearly collapsing into Davey’s arms when they walked him inside. They laid him down on what he assumed to be Davey’s bed before leaving him alone.  
His mind raced, though he was lying still. David Jacobs? He supposed it was less humiliating than if he was found by Jack, or someone worse. He thought back to earlier. It was the first time he’d cried in front of someone in years. Jesus. Why the fuck did it have to be Jacobs, of all people?  
The door opened again, interrupting his thoughts. Spot lifted his head groggily. Davey walked in, kneeling next to the bed and handing Spot a glass of water.  
“Thought you might need this. You’ve had a rough afternoon.”  
“Thanks, Dave.” Wait, did he just-?  
“Was nothing.” Davey moved to stand up, but Spot reached out, without thinking, to grab Davey’s hand.  
“No, thank you. For takin’ me home. Takin’ care of me.”  
“Spot…”  
He closed his eyes for a second before looking back at Davey. “Can you stay here? Please?”  
Davey raised his eyebrows momentarily before nodding and sitting down next to Spot on the bed. “‘Course.”  
Spot pulled himself to a sitting position against the wall, setting the glass on the floor.  
“How’re you feelin’?” Thank god Davey had an idea for something- anything- to talk about.  
“Better.” What else was there to say? “Thanks.”  
The corners of Davey’s mouth turned up slightly. “I’m glad.” He paused, biting his lip. “Spot, I-” He leaned in ever so slowly, just a bit, until their noses were nearly touching, his eyes slipping closed. God, just another inch or two… Davey was almost whispering now. “Can I-”  
Oh, fuck. Spot found himself closing the distance, leaning in, interlacing his fingers with Davey’s as their lips met. Davey let out a soft, barely audible moan before relaxing into the kiss.  
Davey was the first one to pull away after what seemed like an eternity. He gently brushed his thumb over Spot’s bruised jaw, then stood up. “We should get you cleaned up. I’ll be right back.”  
Exhaling, Spot sank into the wall next to the bed, unable to prevent a grin from spreading across his face. What the fuck just happened? He leaned down to grab the water and took a sip.  
When Davey came back, he was holding some rags and what looked like a bowl of water. “Take your shirt off.”  
“Very forward, Jacobs,” Spot said with a smirk.  
“Your back’s covered in blood.”  
“Well lookit you, killin’ the mood with your facts.”  
Davey smiled, shaking his head. “Just take your damn shirt off, Spot.”  
“I got a bad shoulder, Dave. ‘S gonna be kinda hard.”  
Davey rolled his eyes, setting down the things he was carrying and turning to face Spot again. “Don’t you dare turn this into anything more than what it is. It was one kiss. You understand?”  
Spot nodded, but couldn’t resist raising his eyebrows when Davey lifted the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head and carefully easing it off his left arm.  
“I’ll give this to Sarah to wash.”  
“Nah, it’s okay, you don’t hafta-” Spot stopped when Davey shot him a stern look. He pressed a small kiss to Spot’s cheek.  
“It’ll be dry in the morning. Just wait here.”  
“The mornin’?”  
Davey sat back down, laying Spot’s blood-soaked shirt at the end of the bed. “It’s pitch black outside and you can barely stand up. You’re staying the night. Excuse me for not wanting you to walk back to Brooklyn in this state.”  
“Fine.” Spot pretended to pout, but he smiled nonetheless.  
Davey dunked one of the rags in the bowl. He made eye contact with Spot as he wrung out the excess water. “This isn’t going to feel good, but at least your back’ll be clean.”  
Spot turned around to face away from Davey. He flinched, inhaling sharply when the wet fabric touched his back.  
“You okay?” Davey lifted his hand until Spot nodded.  
“Just get it over with.” He remembered his manners. “Please.”  
He held his breath while Davey dabbed the mostly-dried blood off of his back, the contact making the open wounds sting like a bitch. Davey worked quickly and gently, as if this was something he’d had to do multiple times before. Spot decided not to ask. It was an agonizingly long time before Davey finally stopped and began to wrap bandages around Spot’s torso. He tenderly kissed the back of Spot’s neck when he was finished.  
“I’d better get to sleep.” His hand brushed against Spot’s as he stood up. “I’ll be in the other room if you need anything.”  
Spot felt his throat tighten, but he couldn’t quite understand why. “Where’re you sleepin’?”  
“The couch. You’re in my bed, and I’m not about to make you move.”  
What the hell could he say? “Your back’s gonna hurt like hell if you sleep on the couch, Dave.”  
Davey raised his eyebrows, blinking a few times, his eyelashes casting subtle shadows on his cheekbones. “I just scrubbed blood off your back for half an hour, and you’re worried about mine?”  
“Jesus Christ, Jacobs, please just-”  
“Unless you want me to stay here?” Spot felt his face get hot as he nodded once. “You could’ve just said so. It would’ve saved the mental energy of coming up with another bullshit excuse, Conlon.”  
Spot bit the inside of his cheek as Davey climbed back into bed next to him. A sliver of moonlight peeked through the curtains, landing on Davey’s face. “No one finds out, understand?” His voice was barely a whisper.  
Davey just smiled, pressing his lips to Spot’s again before wrapping his arms around him and closing his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if you want me to write another part to this because I 100% will


End file.
